


Laid Bare by Discourse

by ember_firedrake



Series: Taking Down Barriers [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, M/M, Phone Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Voice Kink, mentions of masochism, subjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:24:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ember_firedrake/pseuds/ember_firedrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuation of "Some Like it Red" and "Inhibition, Loosed." Can be read as stand-alone. </p>
<p>Enjolras, frustrated with his family over break, calls Grantaire. Phonesex ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laid Bare by Discourse

Grantaire answers on the third ring, and Enjolras tries to ignore the way his heart rate seems to pick up as he presses the side of the phone closer to his ear. It’s only been a few weeks, that’s no reason for him to get—

“Enjolras?” 

“Hey,” he says, hating the tension in his jaw that makes it sound more like a croak.

“What’s wrong?”

Enjolras falls back on his bed, neglecting for a moment to answer. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to alleviate the headache he’s had since the last encounter with his parents. “It’s so stupid,” he says. “It’s...it’s my family. I hate being here when they’re like this, and I hate having to call you about it because I know your situation is worse and I feel like I’m just—”

“It’s fine,” Grantaire says, his tone gentle. “I’m glad you called.”

And that fills Enjolras’ chest with an ache that is becoming more familiar in recent weeks. Because it’s not just _I’m glad to hear your voice_ but _you seem emotionally vulnerable right now and I’m glad you chose to call me_. Enjolras has always kept certain parts of himself closed-off—he’s aware of how fortunate he is, at least in regards to the opportunities he’s been given—he doesn’t want to seem ungrateful. Even though he knows the choices he makes are going to ruin the illusion his parents have created, their perfect plan for their perfect son, and he isn’t quite ready to confront the reality of that yet. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Grantaire prompts.

Enjolras rakes a hand through his curls. He could grip his hair close to the scalp if he wanted, tug against it. Part of him wants that edge of pain—but not here, not like this. “Yes,” he says, in answer to Grantaire’s question, then, “ _No_...I don’t know. I want—”

He trails off, and there’s silence over the phone, before Grantaire says softly, “What do you want, Enjolras?”

“You.” The word falls of his tongue easily. He has other _wants_ , of course, other dreams and aspirations that take preference and don’t sound quite so needy. After that confrontation with his family, however, he’s feeling a little selfish, and he wants to indulge in that. 

There’s a huff of breath on the phone, Grantaire’s surprise at the response. Enjolras can just see him in his mind’s eye. Grantaire with his phone against his ear, his unruly hair falling everywhere. Would his eyes be widened by shock at hearing Enjolras’ admission? Would his tongue be pressing against his lower lip, the way it always did when he was forming the words for what he wanted to say next, or would he swallow, adam’s apple shifting under the skin? 

Enjolras is on-edge, tense from the earlier encounter that now has him calling Grantaire...but that tension uncoils by degrees as a thought settles in his mind. “Talk to me, Grantaire. Tell me what you’d do to me if you were here.”

Another surprised sound from Grantaire, though he recovers more quickly, this time. “Is that what you want, Enjolras? You want me to get you off?”

Enjolras shivers at the low pitch of those words, his cock swelling in his jeans. “What I _want_ is for you to fuck me senseless, but since I can’t have that right now, I’ll settle for this.”

“ _Fuck_.” The cadence of Grantaire’s voice sends Enjolras from aroused to incredibly turned on, and he presses the heel of his palm against his crotch for relief. “Okay,” Grantaire says, sounding more composed. “What are you wearing? Wait, no—it doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, take it off. Take everything off, sit back on your bed, legs open. You are in your bedroom, right?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras says. He hurries to comply, setting the phone down briefly so he can pull his shirt over his head and shift out of his jeans and underwear. He casts a quick glance at the door to make sure it’s locked, but he knows he won’t be bothered. He considers for a moment whether to get lube from the bedside drawer—Grantaire hadn’t mentioned it. He pulls it out just in case and tosses it on the bedspread, then takes up the phone again as he sits back on the bed. A beat later, he realizes this would be easier hands-free, and plugs his headset into the top of the phone. A moment more to make sure that’s working, and he’s ready.

“Okay.”

“ _Good_ ,” Grantaire almost purrs, and Enjolras can almost feel the rush of blood south. He shouldn’t feel so vulnerable sitting here by himself, but just knowing he’s naked while Grantaire is probably still clothed—he fidgets nervously.

“You’re probably feeling self-conscious right now,” Grantaire says. “Don’t. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Just relax.”

Impossibly, Enjolras does. He remembers Grantaire’s words when he was tied up: _Let it go_ , and he heeds that advice now. He goes boneless against the pillows and mattress, letting out a soft exhalation of breath. He would reach for his cock, but he’s content for now to wait until Grantaire speaks again.

“ _God_ , I wish I could see you right now,” Grantaire says, “I bet you look perfect, gorgeous and sprawled out naked, just waiting for what I’ll say next.” 

Enjolras can’t deny it, and he can feel his pulse picking up in spite of his relaxed stance. “I could take a picture,” he offers. “Maybe set up a webcam?”

Grantaire actually lets out a groan at that, which is enough to make Enjolras reach for himself—though he pulls his hand back at the last moment.

“No...another time, maybe. I don’t want to distract from the way you are now. _Fuck_ , you know what I’d like to do to you? I wouldn’t do it if I was there now, but someday, if you’re up for it, I’d like it if you stripped just as you have now, and put a blindfold on. Would you do that sometime?”

“Yes,” Enjolras says, his eyes falling closed as he imagines it.

“And then,” Grantaire’s voice drops lower, and Enjolras holds his breath so he can hear whatever comes next. “And then, you would put on some headphones. The good kind, the noise-cancelling kind. You could have whatever playlist you want, as long as it’s something mellow. Whatever makes you comfortable. Still with me?”

“Yeah.” He sounds a little more breathy, and he knows Grantaire notices.

“I’d be out somewhere,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras lets himself imagine it. “And there you’d be, naked and blindfolded and listening to your music, with no idea when I’ll be back. At some point I’ll let myself in with a key, but you won’t know when. You’ll just be lost to your music, unable to see anything, unable to see if I’m sitting across the room at that very moment, watching you.”

Enjolras gasps, because he can imagine it, and he knows what that would do to him. He would be turned on by the very idea that Grantaire could be in the room, but he’d be unwilling to take a look and destroy the illusion. 

“And the not knowing will be the worst,” Grantaire says. “Because one song will fade into another and you’ll wonder if I’m still out, why it’s taking so long. And if I am in the room, why I haven’t done anything.”

Enjolras hitches his hips up on the bed, his cock flushed from the effect of Grantaire’s words. 

“You’ll be so turned on, attuned to every shift of air around you, and it’ll just make you want _more_ , until you can’t take it anymore, until you reach for yourself.”

Enjolras does reach for himself then, sighing into the contact as he spreads precome over the head with his thumb. He takes himself in hand, and it’s never felt quite like this—this electric arousal that has him groaning at the first pull of his hand against his cock.

“Yes,” Grantaire encourages. “You’ll touch yourself, lightly at first, just a loose grip of fingers that skate over the skin.”

Enjolras adjusts his grip to accommodate, and the change has him trembling and gasping in short breaths. 

“—You’ll increase your grip, just a little, and fuck the air with your hips because you want to put on a show...you want me to see you like that, completely without shame as you spread your legs wider—”

Grantaire’s words have a profound affect on him, and Enjolras obeys at the slightest suggestion. His legs are splayed wide and his hips strain as they pump up into the circle of his fist. He can almost _feel_ Grantaire in the room with him, and he doesn’t want to open his eyes and destroy that image. Instead, he whines high in his throat at how much he _needs_ to feel Grantaire’s hands upon him. 

“ _Please_.”

“—but I still haven’t touched you, even if I am there. And you _want_ me to touch you, you _want_ me to react. So you slick your fingers—”

Enjolras fumbles for the lube bottle he’d dropped on the bedspread, without opening his eyes. He finds it, manages to get way too much, but it doesn’t matter because he’s reaching down and—

“ _Fuck_ —”

Grantaire pauses his account. “...holy shit, are you actually—?”

Enjolras presses the finger deeper. “ _Yes_ , I am,” he says through gritted teeth, trying to keep his volume low. “Keep...keep talking.”

“ _Fuck_ , I can’t believe you actually—but okay, okay. You’ve got your finger’s slicked, and you’re using them to work yourself open, stretching and pressing deep and— _ah_ —twisting them because you know if I’m there that it’s gotta be torture, keeping myself from touching you when you look so _obscene_ —”

Enjolras can hear how ragged Grantaire sounds, the telltale signs that he’s gripping his own cock, fist working furiously on it. Enjolras works his fingers inside himself in response. The angle is awkward, but the fantasy constructed by Grantaire is vivid in his mind, and he lets himself put on this show for Grantaire’s benefit. His other hand tugs harder on his cock. 

“Grantaire, _please_.”

“And that’s when I’ll touch you,” Grantaire says, voice wavering in a way that Enjolras can tell means he’s close. “When it becomes so much that you say my name, even though for all you know you could be saying it to an empty room. I’ll catch your wrist and draw it away from between your legs. Then— _then_ —I’ll fuck you.”

Enjolras groans, because he can _imagine_ it, the effect it would have to feel Grantaire’s hands on him after being keyed-up for so long. Grantaire lets out a muttered _fuck_ on the phone, but the interruption is brief before he keeps talking.

“I’ll fuck you, and you’ll be so tight, because your fingers can’t prepare yourself quite as much as mine could.”

“I’d love it,” Enjolras says, surprising himself. He gasps, his own hand on his cock speeding up, as he says, “I’d love that edge of pain, that stretch as you fucked me open.”

“ _Fuck_ , Enjolras—”

“ _Yeah_ , come on—”

His own words are broken off as his orgams hits him. He arches on the bed, fingers still buried in him as far as he can manage, as his other hand holds his pulsing cock. In his ear, Grantaire _keens_ , and Enjolras can just picture the look on his face; eyes closed, mouth open as he comes. 

Grantaire has never been one to hold back his own reactions, and Enjolras revels in it. He wishes he had more privacy here, that he could allow himself the freedom of complete abandon, but this is enough for now. This is already more than he normally allows himself.

He laughs weakly, filled with a strange sense of self-satisfied contentment. He reaches for tissues to wipe his hands and clean himself off, then relaxes back on the bed. Grantaire is still there in his ear, panting raggedly, though his breathing eventually evens out. 

“I miss you,” Enjolras says. It feels like a confession, but he isn’t ashamed. 

Grantaire lets out a sigh, and the sound of it seems to curl around him like an embrace. “I miss you too,” he says. It sounds like there is more in the admission, something Grantaire has not yet let himself say aloud. 

Before Enjolras can dwell too much on that, Grantaire speaks again, “But we’ll see each other in a few weeks, right?”

Enjolras bites down on his lip. It would be a trial to wait that long, especially with the way he has lately felt more at odds with his family. 

“What about this weekend?”

If Enjolras was there, he would delight in the way Grantaire’s face lights up when something pleasantly surprises him. Even so, he can hear the grin on Grantaire’s face when he says, “Even better. So, you want to come here, or meet me halfway?”

“Halfway,” Enjolras says, thinking they both need the break from their respective family members.

“Excellent. Oh, and Enjolras?”

“Yes?”

“Bring headphones.”


End file.
